“And lo, where steel met grass and warriors clashed, a voice rose from among the nobles — not to command, but to comfort. And thus did a Princess sing.”
In the ninth month of the twenty-fifth year of the Two-Thousandth Age, when the banners of nations yet waved o’er the field of women’s battle — that is to say, the World Cup of Rugby — there came a moment no prophet foretold, no bard had dared to imagine.
The warriors stood at the edge of triumph and tears. The final horn, like a trumpet of fate, drew nigh. Yet as the match’s close approached, the hearts of the gathered multitude did turn — not to the pitch, but to a figure most noble in the royal box above.
For there, cloaked in the noble hue of deep chestnut — her golden locks now returned to earth’s own shade — sat Catherine, Princess of Wales, consort to Prince William and beloved of the realm.
A Whisper in the Wind
And those seated at her side bore witness to a strange stirring — a smile soft as candlelight danced upon her lips. She leaned close, as if sharing secret counsel, and spake thus:
“This is to cheer on our girls.”
And then — in a moment free of trumpet, drum, or herald’s cry — she began to sing.
The Princess’s Voice, Unveiled
No lyre accompanied her, nor minstrel, nor choir. There was no stage, no scepter, no crown. Only her voice — clear, mournful, and strong — rose into the hushed air like incense in a sacred temple.
And the song? Not of old Britannia, nor of hymns oft sung by choirs at coronation — but a ballad of our own age: “Someone Like You,” by the bardess known as Adele.
All movement ceased. The scribes fell silent. The lords and ladies stilled their breath. The very players upon the field, bruised and breathless, halted in their tracks. Even Prince William, heir to the throne, was seen wide-eyed, whispering:
“Never thought she’d do this…”
The Stadium Becomes a Sanctum
As the Princess sang, the stadium ceased to be a place of sport and became instead a temple of wonder. Her notes carried not just over the crowd, but into hearts — unguarded, raw, and noble.
And when at last the final line was sung, and silence stood in awe of its own echo, the people broke — not in confusion, but in thunderous praise. The roar that followed shook the stone and soul alike.
Knights of both teams clapped with reverence. Youths cried her name as though calling upon a legend. And across the distant lands of the Web and the Scroll, her song rang out again, carried by voices unseen.
A Song Against the Script of Kings
The chronicles of old tell of queens crowned in silence and kings anointed in solemn rite. But never, not in the annals of Albion, had a royal voice — a woman of the House of Windsor — stepped forward thus, casting aside all pageantry, and given voice to feeling itself.
Some shall say it was strategy. Others, sorcery.
Yet most shall say: it was human, and that is the rarest magic of all.
Even the bardess Adele, far removed and yet deeply tied, did send forth her own word unto the realm — a single utterance:
“Wow.”
A New Page in the Royal Tome
By the dawn of the morrow, the scribes of every kingdom wrote boldly of what had passed:
- “A Princess’s Voice Stills a Stadium”
- “Kate of the House Middleton Breaks Tradition with Song”
- “When the Game Paused, and the Crown Sang”
And in homes from Cornwall to Caithness, they asked not of the final score, but of the woman who sang without crown or command, yet ruled the moment with but a note.
Let the Song Be Remembered
In years hence, when the great grandchildren of today’s children ask what happened that day at the World Cup of Women’s Rugby, the tale shall be told thus:
“There was a Princess, gentle yet brave.
She saw her people weary from battle,
And instead of banners or proclamations,
She gave them a song.
And in that song, all hearts were lifted.”
Let this be written in the Book of Queens not yet crowned.
Let it be sung, from towers to taverns.
So ends the Ballad of the Princess and the Pitch.
Selah.
